A Grave Celebration

by Christine Trent

  The various royal servants were scattered about, the more important ones tending to their masters and mistresses, others helping in the background with the dismantling of Ismailia, and still others likely beginning to pack up sleeping tents.

  Violet caught the eye of Théophile Gautier, who nodded his head and pantomimed three slow claps. Encouragement to continue, or merely an acknowledgment of her boldness? She could almost hear him saying, “Act three, scene four. Deranged undertaker mounts stage and makes wild allegations.”

  She continued on. “Many of you do not know that upon our arrival in Port Said a few days ago, there was a death in the lumberyard, which burned down during the fireworks display. The death was that of the lumberyard owner’s son, Yusef Halabi, and although he had ostensibly perished in the flames, it was quickly obvious to me that he had been stabbed prior to the fire.”

  Several people in the audience gasped, while de Lesseps’s expression turned thunderous.

  Violet couldn’t worry about the Frenchman’s anger at this point. Sam had to be publicly declared innocent and freed, and there was no better way to do this than to explain the story to every single delegate present, who could then exert pressure upon Pasha to release the Americans or risk an international crisis.

  “Later in the evening, while most of you had rejoined the festivities or were boarded back on your ships to prepare for the next day’s sailing, another murder occurred, this time of a ship’s captain who had been hired to carry certain items to Ismailia. His death was made to look as if he had piloted his ship into a canal embankment while completely in his cups, but I knew from his injuries that this could not be true. Captain Naser had also been murdered.”

  Violet started to pace onstage, a habit of hers when sorting out a knotty problem. The two “dying” actors, spooked by her own performance, held hands and quietly exited the stage, leaving her alone inside the “crypt” walls to make her earth-shattering denunciations.

  “Although I understood that both men had been murdered, it was difficult to see what they had in common. Why would someone wish to do away with a man working in a lumberyard and also a man who pilots a ship? It made no sense. Perhaps they had nothing to do with each other.” Violet paused and held up a hand to the audience. “But they were related.”

  “The undertaker undertakes a great mystery!” Asa Brooks shouted from his seat, eliciting nervous laughter from the audience.

  Violet ignored him as she readied for what she had to divulge. “First we witnessed local Egyptians being killed, then the deaths moved into the delegations. Herr Karl Dorn, chamberlain to His Imperial Highness Franz-Josef, died during the Dinner of the Sovereigns. As with the captain, most people believed that it was due to an overabundance of liquor. But the chamberlain struck me as very devoted to his duties. Would he truly lose control of himself in this way, shaming not only himself, but also the Austrian emperor? I did not think so.

  “It was too much to be hoped that all of the death would cease with Dorn, for then there was a final, most heinous death among the American soldiers, who were not here as delegation members but as a special team training the khedive’s own army. We all watched the Americans and their military displays at the picnic. That night, one of them, Sergeant Caleb Purdy, was killed, run through with a cavalry saber. But not just any saber . . . it was the one belonging to my husband.”

  This set the chattering apace, which was no surprise to Violet. She waited for the audience to calm down.

  “The Americans were hauled off to a jail here, and were it not for the kindness of one of the khedive’s men, I may have never seen my husband again.” Violet sighed. “Of course, Sam had not killed Purdy, any more than he had killed any of the other victims. But had a single person killed all four men, or were there multiple killers at work? And what could these men possibly have in common?

  “It was the Empress Eugénie’s lady’s maid, Mademoiselle Julie Lesage, who convinced me that it was one killer, and that that one killer was targeting servants attached to the canal celebrations. Mademoiselle Lesage was an excellent actress, worthy of the greatest Parisian stage—or Cairo opera house—for her performance as a frightened domestic. Her intent was to throw my suspicions upon poor Isabelle Dumont, lady’s maid to Louise-Hélène Autard de Bragard, fiancée to the great Ferdinand de Lesseps, of whom she felt great jealousy because she did not believe Mademoiselle Dumont to be her equal. Mademoiselle Lesage is also petty and spiteful. She tried her best to portray Mademoiselle Dumont as deficient, even going so far as to seek out a member of the Russian delegation for help—which fortunately was not provided—as well as to use a bloodied shawl to imply that the other maid might have had something to do with Purdy’s murder.”

  Violet shook her head in disgust at how she had been duped. There was no sound whatsoever coming from the audience now. Braying camels and their shouting drivers could be heard in the distance, but inside the hastily erected playhouse there was complete silence. Violet glanced out over the audience, and noticed that Eugénie was pale. She was about to become paler.

  “As it turned out, Mademoiselle Lesage was partially correct. Isabelle Dumont was not truly a proper lady’s maid, but a mere friend of Louise-Hélène’s, one whom Louise-Hélène was attempting to help escape a bad marriage. They did not know that Isabelle would meet one of the American soldiers during this trip, and that the two would become enamored with each other. A happy occurrence, but a complicating one for Mademoiselle Lesage.

  “The empress’s maid probably felt emboldened in her actions because of Eugénie’s unintentional condescension toward the common Louise-Hélène.” Violet turned to squarely face de Lesseps. “Monsieur, you must not permit other women—no matter how great they are—to occupy the space that rightfully belongs to Louise-Hélène. Do not humiliate her, and I believe she will be the most precious of wives.”

  De Lesseps was practically sputtering in rage over Violet’s public chastisement, but she didn’t care. That poor girl deserved more than to be a dusty old piece of luggage stored away in a closet.

  “Although I understood this about the two maids, it still did not resolve the great mystery surrounding the deaths of four men. But during the past week, I have gathered some crucial pieces of information, most of which I had no idea were important until everything came to me about an hour ago.

  “First, I extend my compliments to General Nikolay Ignatiev, whose recognition of Herr Dorn’s death by overeating opium was brilliant. Had I immediately acted upon that idea, I might have reached the answer sooner. You were also wise to avoid Mademoiselle Lesage, who accosted you during the Dinner of the Sovereigns.”

  Ignatiev inclined his head graciously at her. “I did not know who she was, but I do know beautiful women not usually wish to talk to Nikolay,” he said.

  Le bon Théo was becoming impatient. “Dear lady, we, too, would like to reach the final scene of your dramatic piece before the next century arrives,” he called out. “Or, if it will take that long, at least let us have some drinks.”

  There was nervous laughter in the audience, but no one seemed inclined to leave or worry about refreshments. Violet was more than happy to allow the murderer to continue to suffer in suspense, unable to bolt from the proceedings because guilt would be apparent without Violet’s words of condemnation.

  She took a deep breath. “I spent so much time focused on the discordance between the two maids that I missed the true nature of the situation, how ruthless and determined and, yes, how motivated the killer was. These attributes are why three men had to be murdered.”

  “Four, Mrs. Harper. There were four men killed,” Sir Henry said.

  She shook her head. “No, just three. Karl Dorn really did die simply by overeating opium. I did not initially recognize the symptoms, but now I believe he was a man who suffered great physical pain, and probably sought relief in many substances. He did not understand the power of opium, which he found in a chest aboard his ship. I am certain the opiu
m had been secretly stashed aboard Viribus Unitis by the murderer, who intended to retrieve it at a later point. No one would have suspected that the chest, which contained much more than mere opium, would be hidden upon the Austrian emperor’s boat, making it a convenient transport vessel to Ismailia and beyond.

  “It was the most unlikely person attending the canal celebrations who actually revealed to me the truth of the matter. My husband and I visited the Arab tents, and while there, we met the Egyptologist Richard Lepsius. He retold the legend of the treasure thief, about a trusted servant of Pharaoh who proceeds to deceive his ruler by building a pyramid to hold Pharaoh’s riches, but leaving a secret entrance for himself to steal gradually from Pharaoh’s stores.

  “The story was amusing but meaningless to me, until I received from Auguste Mariette a copy of his book, in which he inscribed, ‘For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.’ It caused me to consider what Mariette had said to me one evening at dinner, that the khedive had the unfortunate tendency to . . . select antiquities for himself that would . . . otherwise find their way to the national museum. It was the story of the treasure thief, but in reverse, since the equivalent to the pharaoh—the khedive—was the one spiriting away national treasures.”

  Pasha shouted an obscenity to Mariette, who ignored him but looked at Violet in utter shock at her betrayal. She silently hoped Mariette would forgive a distraught wife doing everything in her power to free her husband, especially with what else she had to say.

  “If so, had Mariette orchestrated a series of deaths to cast a pall upon the canal celebrations, to discredit Pasha’s rule and possibly even dethrone him, thus stopping the great pillaging of antiquities? It would have been a bold move for the Frenchman.

  “However, this was not the case, although Mariette did witness something important. He told me that he saw one of the American soldiers berating an Egyptian soldier. I do not think this was what he saw at all. He witnessed the murderer arguing with Caleb Purdy, but because Mariette does not know military uniforms, he was confused about what he had witnessed.”

  Gautier lolled his head back against his chair dramatically and once more called out to her. “Please, Madame Harper. My grandchildren are becoming old men while we wait for the dénouement of your very interesting, but most complicated, story.”

  Very well. Perhaps it was time to move the murderer into custody.

  “As every participant here knows, Pasha’s most ardent goal is to modernize Egypt. He has been most successful in his efforts, as the world now sees. Unfortunately for the men who were murdered, Pasha also desires to turn Egypt into a European-style nation. This does not sit well with many, including his own son Tewfik.”

  Even Gautier was openmouthed at the implication of this.

  “Tewfik revealed to me that there is a burgeoning nationalist movement in Egypt, one that seeks to expel all foreigners who have been relocated here as a result of the canal construction.”

  Pasha jumped up and turned to face his son. “Who is behind this?” he exclaimed furiously. “I will have this traitorous idea crushed immediately!”

  Tewfik stared stonily ahead, ignoring his father.

  For her part, Violet took no delight in participating in internal political squabbles between Pasha and Colonel Orabi.

  “Your Highness,” she said, returning his attention back to her, “I believe you already know who that is. However, we have a worse man in our midst. Someone whom you trust but who does not deserve your trust. Someone whom you might believe has the best interests of the canal in mind, but actually desires its destruction.”

  “Who would dare betray this great achievement, Mrs. Harper? Dare to betray me?”

  Violet paused, hating to deliver the news to a man who had poured his entire reputation, his country’s fortune, his very life into this enterprise. She moved to the edge of the stage and looked directly at Pasha. “It is your cultural attaché, Hassan Salib.”

  A crypt-like silence descended over the audience, with probably half the audience wondering what Pasha would do and the other half wondering who Hassan even was.

  Pasha was as stunned as Violet had expected he would be. He signaled a servant standing nearby, who immediately ran off to do his master’s bidding.

  “Madaam, you cannot possibly know what you are talking about,” Pasha protested.

  “I know that you are distressed, but it is true.”

  “I do not believe it. Hassan has been my most valued man for many years.”

  Clearly certain members of the audience—those who had seen Hassan at Pasha’s side, who had seen Hassan serve as the respectful announcer of guests at the Ismailia party—did not believe Violet, either, for there was a low rumble of discontent.

  “Your valued man is devoted to Colonel Orabi, sir. It is the only explanation. He has always sought to serve him, and working under you as cultural attaché gave him plenty of opportunity.”

  “But he was trained in European countries. He is fluent in several languages. He would not associate with a risen fellah like Orabi.”

  “I cannot account for Hassan’s loyalties; I can only tell you what he did. It began with the antiquities that you have intercepted on their way to the Cairo Museum.”

  “What of them? They belong to me.”

  At that moment, Pasha’s servant reappeared with several soldiers and Hassan himself, whose calm and placid exterior infuriated Violet.

  Pasha pointed at Violet. “Now you must prove it in front of Hassan himself, madaam.”

  But Pasha was sadly mistaken if he thought Violet was fearful to do so, particularly when Sam’s life hung in the balance. “As I said, Hassan is an Orabi loyalist. More so, he is actively supporting him through the sale of artifacts and opium.”

  Only a brief tic in Hassan’s eyes revealed to Violet that she was correct.

  “As Your Highness would go through the artifacts and select those you wished to keep, Hassan would set them aside as instructed, but instead of sending all of the remaining pieces to the museum, he would select certain ones into which he could stuff opium packets, which he believed would add to their value, to sell them in order to raise money for Orabi’s movement. Thus Mariette was seeing nearly all of the museum’s treasures vanishing before they ever arrived. But for Hassan, this theft was legitimate, as he was helping to save his country from the foreign invasion that had resulted when de Lesseps started his canal and imported workers from all over the world with Pasha’s blessing. No longer would Egypt be in submission to the international community.”

  Mariette stood and pointed a finger at Pasha. “I knew that you were responsible for the decimation of my museum! It will take years for me to rebuild the collections, which have probably been sent to the ends of the earth by now. No doubt the British have taken the lion’s share of them.”

  This caused Bertie to jump up, too. “Good Britons pay handsomely and honestly for artifacts, which are offered by every stall vendor and street urchin in this country. It is not wrong if we have a deeper appreciation and care for antiquities of other cultures.”

  Now de Lesseps interjected to defend his countryman, shouting at Pasha, “I knew that there were forces seeking to undermine me. Now I know that those forces were coming from you, and that they sought to undermine all French interests in Egypt.”

  Hassan’s lips curved up smugly at the argument, which Violet saw was carrying attention away from him. She knew this was spiraling out of control, like a funeral service full of inebriated mourners, but she also knew exactly how to manage such a situation. She clapped her hands together several times. The cracking noise echoed sharply over the proceedings and caused everyone’s attention to turn back to her.

  “I should like to finish this story before you all establish your battle lines,” she said. Everyone sat once more, except for Hassan, who had soldiers on either side of him, holding his elbows.

  “Hassan’s plan worked very well for quite some time, I cannot imagine ho
w long, until it came to the canal celebrations, where his misfortunes began. First, Pasha intercepted a load of treasures that he wanted to examine while on his ship, which meant that Hassan would have to risk moving them in front of thousands of people. So he came up with a distraction in Port Said that provided him an opportunity to slip away with his current load of treasures and hide them near the khedive’s palace in Ismailia, then return to Port Said before the flotilla set out the following morning. I believe his brother, Rashad, was Hassan’s partner in everything, for the events executed would have been difficult for one man to accomplish, and the two of them were frequently together.”

  Hassan, still confident, said calmly, “This is a terrible slander against my brother and me, my lady. I am no criminal.”

  “No.” Violet shook her head. “In your mind, you are not, as you believe you are performing a patriotic duty. However, murder is a crime in nearly every society, and you are guilty of that.

  “You and Rashad decided to set fire to the lumberyard, which would cause great commotion and require significant manpower to extinguish. Its proximity to the fireworks stand would only make it that much more distracting. But the lumberyard owner’s son Yusef Halabi caught you as you were placing the tools for your evil deed, and so you easily killed him, believing that the murder would be disguised inside the fire. You did not count on an undertaker being a part of the proceedings, but you managed well by also being in a position to be directed to spirit the man’s body off before I could establish my point about his death.” Violet hated to think how much might have been covered up had she not been there.

  “Great conjecture on your part, but it is only that,” Hassan said, then appealed to his master. “Your Highness, this woman is clearly insane. We should see her off right away with the rest of the British delegation.”

  By now Pasha was vacillating in his defense of Hassan, and it was obvious that he was interested in Violet’s retelling of the events.

  “While all attention was on the fire, you and your brother boarded the ship commanded by Captain Naser, whom you undoubtedly told that you were on important business for the khedive in order to convince him to ferry you and your artifacts to Ismailia right away.”